


Reteach Me

by Megane



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Caretaking, Coping, Coping Kinks, M/M, New Kinks, Owning One's Past, Sex Positive, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris is ashamed of his new kink, a product of his aforementioned life as his slave. Hawke tries to assure him that there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, he wants to help Fenris take ownership of it and triumph over shame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reteach Me

Danarius was someone that Fenris _never_ liked talking about. The elf even _thought_ of that horrible Magister in contempt. Danarius was no man, no master; he was truly a _monster_ in every shape the word could take. He was a monster in Fenris’ eyes and in the eyes of many others. But unfortunately, he wasn’t held in such hateful regard by  _everyone_. He was viewed as an option, as a beacon of hope for something better. Danarius was “a better way” to rise in the world, but Fenris could not and would not _ever_  believe that.

That wicked, greedy, tyrannical Magister ruined and damned many things the elf had come to know. Fenris hated attention; he hated being touched or approached. Ah… He hated many things, but there was only one thing that Fenris hated more.

  
Hated and secretly desired.

 

He first noticed this bitter desire when he and Hawke were being intimate. The two of them were pressed against each other. Fenris straddled Hawke’s lap, working his hips down against his lover’s. The rogue leaned up and pressed his lips against the front of Fenris’ neck. Teeth found the tattooed neck, nipping and tugging gently at the marked skin. The elf let out a low growl and placed a clawed hand on the back of Hawke’s head, drawing his Champion closer.

“You’re being too gentle,” Fenris groaned, rocking his arse back down into his lover’s lap. He gasped when he felt Hawke get a little more serious. The rogue turned his head, biting down on his lover’s neck. His teeth clenched on the tattooed skin, only biting down a little harder when he felt Fenris react positively. The elf groaned deep in his chest; the noise rolled up his throat and against Hawke’s lips. The elf lowered himself flush against the rogue and rolled his hips in a circle.

Hawke smoothed his hands up Fenris’ sides, feeling over the lithe form and hidden muscles. He brought up his right hand, cupping over the unoccupied space of his lover’s neck. His grip was firm, and Fenris shuddered under his hold. He imagined, for just a moment, that Hawke’s grip was tighter, that his lover’s palm pressed against the apple of his throat. He imagined, for just a moment, that there was an encompassing tightness. Strong enough to be pleasurable but not tight enough to choke and smother.  
 

His mind flashed, and he imagined himself wearing a collar.  
 

The elf growled and squared his shoulders. He drew his hands up and pressed them down against Hawke’s. He pushed his lover forward, tattoos glowing a brilliant blue. He glared down at his lover, seeing but not seeing. He bared his teeth at the vision of himself, but when his eyes settled, he could see Hawke staring at him in surprise. He could hear his lover trying to calm him down. Fenris deflated; his shoulders slackened, and he sat up a bit, arse pressed down once again on Hawke’s groin. He had long since learned to stop pulling away from Hawke when his mind began to play tricks. Instead, he adopted sitting in shameful silence, collecting himself while the rogue rubbed and kneaded his body.

The vision came again for a second time. This time, they were walking together in the marketplace, talking in low, hushed voices. The Sun was nearly setting and cast its warm orange light over the rooftops. Fenris was looking around, listening to Hawke talk about inconsequential things. He spied a couple standing in the shadows. The taller cupped the smaller person’s chin. The smaller person looked helpless and dazed but not in a particularly negative way. Fenris could tell that that was the daze of lust. The smaller of the two pressed their lips together and nodded submissively. Fenris watched as the taller figure kissed their partner’s forehead and laid a peck to the perked lips. The smaller bit their thumbnail and loosely laced their fingers with the taller figure’s. The two stepped into the low light and turned a corner, blending into the shopping crowd.

           “Fenris, Fenris. Are you alright?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he inhaled through his nose, closing his eyes. He reimagined the scene before him. This time, the two people were simply Hawke and himself. They stood together in the shadow of their shared estate. Hawke’s left hand held the leash to Fenris’ collar. Fenris stood slumped against the wall, nodding his head with the same submissiveness. A soft smile curved his lips at Hawke’s kisses…

The imagery lasted seconds but was vivid enough to make him feel queasy and confused. The image painted before him appeared loving and safe, but he knew collars and leashes to be anything _but_. He turned sharply towards Hawke’s hands, walked closer, and pressed himself against Hawke’s body. He raised a hand, placing it on the back of the rogue’s neck. “Let’s get out of here,” Fenris muttered, brows knit tight in his sickening confusion. “I need to talk to you.”

The rogue nodded his head and led the way back. All the while, Fenris had time to think. He wondered if he should say anything at all, but twice was already too much for him. To sit in silence and let it continue on again and again until it drove him mad… That wasn’t an option. He learned that, with Hawke, he was allowed to speak his mind about these matters. He was no slave, and Hawke was no Danarius. This talk would be better; this talk would have more positive progress. He could find the answer.

The walk had been long as they made their way back into Hightown. They had been stopped a couple of times by admirers and guards who quickly wished to discuss business and tactics. To Fenris’ great relief, it was night by the time they reached their home. They were allowed to quickly head upstairs to their bedroom. Fenris shuddered bodily as they crossed the threshold. Hawke closed the door as Fenris stepped closer towards the bed. The elf lifted his hand, rubbing his forehead. Without any prompting, he spoke first in a low voice; Hawke listened, only stepping closer when Fenris stopped pacing in circles.

           “It makes me _sick_ ,” Fenris spat, swinging his hand away from his face. “After what those Tevinter magocrat _bastards_ did to me and the other slaves, I’ve no right to—”

           “Don’t... say that, Fenris,” Hawke began. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

           “Don’t try to make it seem like this is okay, Hawke, because it’s _not_. It’s wrong to– to fetishize my past so. It’s horrible to find _pleasure_ in something that brought me nothing but pain.” Fenris’ face was twisted with rage; he turned his body away, shaking his head. “I’m just as loathsome as he is.”

Hawke frowned deeply, reached forward, and grabbed Fenris’ wrist. He tugged on the thinner arm and brought his lover close. Their lips connected, and Fenris submitted himself, if only for confusion’s sake. When they broke away, Hawke sighed.

           “Were you truly loathsome, I doubt we would be together,” Hawke stated, a lilt of humour to his voice.

           Fenris lowered his gaze, shaking his head again. “This isn’t the time for jokes, Hawke.”

           “Perhaps, but I mean it still. Were you anything like Danarius, we would never be together, I’m sure. We would have never even made it this far, but I assure you that you are _nothing_ like him.” He raised his left hand, trailing the tips of his fingers against Fenris’ neck.

           “Now, about this collar,” he continued, “I can help you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

           “You don’t know—” Fenris began, wanting to argue the point.

           “Hush,” Hawke stated, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ll help you reclaim this. It is in your heart; it is something you desire. You need to cope. If you continue to condemn yourself, you’ll never learn freedom. It’s not just about being a free man in body, but you have to be a free man in heart, mind, and soul.”

           After a brief silence, Fenris lifted his head. “And you will be my liberator.”

           “Well,” Hawke stated, “I don’t know about that. I just got used to being called ‘Champion’.”

           Fenris chuckled briefly, turning his body and pressing himself closer to his lover. “I will try,” he promised. “I would like to try.”

           “That’s all we can do.” Hawke moved his hands and wrapped his arms around his warrior. “And whatever you say goes. We stop when you say stop.”

To have that much power, even in something so simple, meant the world to Fenris. The world could stop at his command, or Hawke would say so. He smirked, nodding his head.

           “We shall see.”

 

When they finally decided to do it, Fenris sighed, feeling the collar slip around his neck. They had both removed their armour and leathers. Hawke remained in his at-home trousers, and Fenris was mostly naked. The rogue had insisted on doting on his lover, laying kisses on his skin and complimenting him in-between. Fenris felt loved and cared for. He relaxed with each moment that passed, not caring for the difference in their clothed states.

Hawke bit his bottom lip as he sat behind the elf, adjusting the collar slowly. 

           “Are you sure about this?” Hawke asked lowly, leaning slightly forward and looking to his lover.

           Fenris hummed thoughtfully and leaned his head back, placing a hand on Hawke’s leg. “Yes, I’ll be fine, Hawke.” He opened his eyes slightly. “It’s not like you to worry.”

           “It’s _exactly_ like me,” the rogue muttered, lowering his hands and kissing at Fenris’ shoulder.

           “I know; ‘twas a joke,” Fenris closed his eyes again, slowly turning his head away. He moved his arm in front of himself.

           “Heh, you’ll get there.”

           The corner of Fenris’ lips quirked up in a smirk. “I should hope so. Being in your company, I’ve already learned many things.”

Hawke smiled, taking that as a compliment. His calloused hands traced over Fenris’ naked body, lowering down. One hand rested on the elf’s thigh, and the other wrapped around the hardened cock.

           “Are you ready?” Hawke asked, lifting his gaze to glance at his lover.

           Fenris nodded his head. “As much as I’ll ever be.”

He groaned softly, feeling Hawke’s hand work over his cock. Hawke hummed softly and continued to dab kisses on the tattooed skin. He began to nip and steadily bite, slowly jerking Fenris as he went. The warrior groaned out the other’s name, slowly forgetting that he was wearing the nightmare-cursed item around his neck.

Hawke pulled away to grab a vial, and Fenris adjusted his position. The elf sat near the head of the bed, arse settled between his legs and flat against the bed. Hawke sat down on the bed again, leaned forward, and left the vial next to his lover’s legs. Fenris opened his eyes only slightly, glancing down to the small glass item as it touched his leg. Hawke cupped his lover’s neck, and the leather squeezed against Fenris’ neck.

The reality set in.

Fenris groaned and closed his eyes, thick brows knitting together. Hawke kissed at the underside of his lover’s jaw, hushing the elf softly. He muttered to the elf: “It’s okay; I’m here.” “You’re with me, Fenris.” “I’ll take care of you; I’m with you.”

Oh…

The reassuring yet slightly concerned utterings of a caring lover. It’s something that Fenris would have missed had he never done this. Well, maybe there would be another time, but he couldn’t think of the circumstance. Fenris opened his eyes when he was guided down onto his back. Hawke sat up on his knees, grabbing the bottle to coat his fingers.

           “Grab it…” Fenris groaned reluctantly. “Grab it; tug on it. Make me feel it.”

           “Are you sure?” Hawke asked again, lowering his hands slowly.

           Fenris nodded. “When it’s just resting against me, I-I’m prone to forget. However. If you bring my attention to it, I can remember. That can make it… easier to grasp... that this is real.”

           The former Champion nodded his head. “I can do that.”

           Fenris grabbed Hawke’s forearm. “But don’t pull too much.”

           A reassuring smile. “I won’t.” 

And Fenris believed him. Hawke hooked two of his fingers in the ring and pulled gently. Fenris groaned and asked for more. Hawke curled his fingers and pulled again, drawing Fenris’ head from the pillow slightly. “Again,” the lanky elf stated, hand slacking from Hawke’s arm. Hawke sighed through his nose and pulled again. His muscle tensed as he supported Fenris’ weight. The elf groaned, and his lover set him back down.

           “E-enough,” Fenris stated, reaching up to pat Hawke’s arm.

           “As you wish.”

           That made the broken elf’s heart flutter. “… I need you, Hawke.”

           “And you have me. All of me.”

Hawke lowered himself down, once again returning to the ritual of kissing and tending to his lover’s body. He admired each curve and spike of the tattoos. He licked and kissed over each bumpy scar. Hawke adored them, though he despised the history. He knew it would be impossible, even through kisses and love alone, to wipe away their bitterness. He lifted his gaze, staring at the black item around the elfin’s neck.  
 

But he at least had a chance with _one_ thing.  
 

Fenris moved onto his hands and knees. Hawke removed his trousers and prepared his sex. To break the seriousness in the air, there was playful teasing, and Fenris even cracked a smile. For one of the few times that night, Fenris opened his eyes and chastised Hawke. The rogue smirked when he heard a chuckle and “You are such a fool.” 

           “Yes,” he confirmed, “but _your_ fool.”

           “That you are, and I am—” Fenris groaned, feeling the familiar heat of Hawke’s body inside his own. He swallowed down a noise, breath exiting him in a shudder.

           “Mine,” Hawke stated, half playful, half possessive.

Fenris could hear the possessive tone but felt no fear in it. He shuddered and moaned back to the rogue, muttering now his lover’s name. He wanted to say something to add to the moment but knew that words would simply fail him as Hawke began his claim over him.

And it was most assuring. It was warm and familiar; it was loving and free. It was careful but dangerous. It was a risky maneuver that could so easily go wrong and send Fenris reeling backwards and hiding in shame for years. But with Hawke, he felt no shame. When they were like this, he felt little reason to. His hand touched the collar as he was pounded into.

This was a sign that he was claimed. That he belonged to someone with such love and intensity. He was a free elf now, and he would never be Danarius’. He groaned deeply, lowering his hand to the bed, listening to the repetitive jiggle of his new collar.

 

He would be Hawke’s; he would infinitely be Hawke’s. If this collar and Hawke's words meant anything, then Fenris could still be a free man while he lovingly accepted the claim laid upon him by this liberating man.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [this work of art](http://6wholesilabus.tumblr.com/post/89908068753/)! My part in an impromptu cheer up project. Hope he feels better!


End file.
